Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Yeah, yeah. How’s Christina?” I asked.
“She’s great, and the kids are awesome. They’ve already been asking about Uncle Smitty.”
That made me smile. “Cool. I officially invite myself over for dinner tomorrow. I’ll even bring the beer.”
“Nice of you,” he snarked.
“No prob. Just remember…no beets, and if you try to kill me with a cauliflower pizza again, I’ll have to hurt you.”
Jimmy guffawed. “Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was that bad.” I switched lanes to maneuver around a slow-as-fuck Jeep. “I should go. I need to concentrate on the road. See you tomorrow, honey.”
“Very funny. Uh…wait up. You have our new address, right?”
“What? No. When did you move?”
“A couple of months ago. I sent you a change of address card.” Jimmy waited a beat, adding, “We live in St. Clair Shores now, back in the old neighborhood.”
“Sweet. Gimme the deets and—”
“It’s closer to work and camp and…the schools are good.” He paused, leaving a heavy vibe I couldn’t translate on a cellular connection. Two seconds later, I understood. “And we live a couple of blocks away from Rachel.”
Every muscle in my body tensed.
“Rachel.”
“She and Christina stayed close, and when we were looking for a new home, the stars aligned. You know, she’s remarried.”
I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah, I heard.”
“Ben’s a nice guy and—” Jimmy’s tone took on the ultra-cautious note of someone who was about to tell you something that was gonna hurt no matter how nicely they phrased it. I held my breath, my gaze fixed on the white lines blazing by in my periphery, and waited. “Don’t worry. You won’t run into each other, but if you do…I gotta warn you about something.”
“What?”
I knew what he was going to say. Call it instinct, call it a sixth sense…
“She’s pregnant.”
And there it was.
The bomb I’d always known would drop someday.
Nonetheless, it rendered me speechless. My tongue felt numb and my gut churned ominously. I didn’t want to feel anything about this. I didn’t want to care. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as immune as I’d hoped. The suddenness of unwelcome emotion knocked the air out of me.
“Oh,” I finally managed, swallowing around the grapefruit lodged in my throat.
“I thought you should know. I don’t want you to be blindsided if you bump into each other, but…uh, yeah.”
Jimmy stalled out as if passing the proverbial conversation baton. Fuck. I had nothing. My brain was mush. I’d known this day would come. It was as if I’d been carrying a live grenade in my pocket for years. Yeah, there was a chance it would never blow up, but that wasn’t realistic. And I was nothing if not a realist.
But as my creaky bones and aching muscles reminded me, I was also human.
“Well…that’s cool,” I choked out after what felt like twenty minutes of static silence.
“Yeah. Okay, well…call me tomorrow, man,” he barreled on with forced cheer. “We’ll talk shop and get organized for camp. We’ve got a huge enrollment this summer and…”
I tuned him out.
Ontario signposts passed in a blur and fluffy summer clouds shaped like balloon animals floated on the horizon. This was the way home. I’d driven this interstate so many times, I was sure I could do it blindfolded.
The journey home was symbolic of so many memories. I willed myself to concentrate on the good ones, but my brain was already spinning in the opposite direction.
The sad drives home to visit my sick father in the hospital. The angry drives, like the time my brother called to tell me Mom had passed out at the DMV and he was done, moving to Florida. The nervous drive home to see my wife, who’d sounded so…resolved on the phone.
This road always led to endings, but like a true glutton for punishment, I steered my truck homeward, hoping for the best, bracing for the worst.
Like I always did.
I was right.
About everything.
The camp kids were awesome, Jimmy and his family were amazing, and my mother was a pain in the ass. I spent my days at the local rink, a few miles away from the run-down one where I’d skated as a kid, and spent my nights popping Advil and icing my knee while avoiding my cell. Sure, I caught up with my old high school buddies and hosted a barbecue or two at my lakefront rental, but I didn’t drink like I used to and I had nothing much to add to conversations anymore.
I didn’t have a family—no kids, no wife, no girlfriend. I knew hockey—nothing else.
The guys thought it was insane that I didn’t have a posse of women on speed dial. They looked at me like I was nuts. Hockey players scored. What was wrong with me? Nothing at all. It was just that I was tired and…maybe a little hung up on something I couldn’t have.
And that right there was a disturbing overriding theme in my life.